Fifty Quills About Harry
by Celandine Brandybuck
Summary: Fifty very short fics focused on Harry, written for the 100quills 50.1 table on LiveJournal. Various genres and other characters. Posted here in table order rather than the order written, in groups of ten. Mostly low, a couple higher ratings scattered in.
1. Quills 1 to 10

Harry thinks that Severus loves him for physical reasons alone. Prompt #1, "Doubt." Harry/Snape. Written also for the "Their Insecurities" challenge at snarry100.

**Upgrade**

As he heard the floorboard in the hall creak, Harry hastily slipped the fat volume under a cushion and grabbed up a copy of _Which Broomstick_ instead, pretending to be engrossed in a comparison of the latest Nimbus and Firebolt models when Severus came in.

"How was your day?"

"Fair."

He never said more than that, never seemed to want to talk to Harry about what he was working on. Harry touched the spine of the hidden copy of _Moste Potente Potions_. Maybe someday he could get Severus to realize that he had a brain as well as a heart.

* * *

Even in primary school Harry was a little different. Prompt #2, "Magical." snegurochkalee gave me the suggestion that this could be pre-Hogwarts -- so a big mwah of thanks to her!

**The First Clue**

One of Dudley's favorite ways to lose Harry marks was to give him leaky biros. He had figured out how to twist them so that they looked fine, but after about ten minutes of writing, they began to smudge the pages.

Biting his lip, Harry pulled the fourth biro of the day out of his bag, hoping fervently that Dudley had not damaged this one. When the blotches started appearing, he nearly cried.

"Please, please, please," he whispered. "I haven't another with me." He kept on with his essay — he had to — and to his astonishment, the paper stayed clean.

* * *

Harry and Ron fulfil Hermione's final request. Prompt #3, "Tomorrow." Harry/Hermione/Ron. The title is from Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ (Act 5, Scene 5, line 19), Macbeth's soliloquy on the death of his wife.

**Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow**

She had wanted no special ceremony for this. Ron would arrange a memorial service of some kind, to bring all their friends — those who were left — together once more, but Harry was the one taking care of her ashes.

"Choose a spot that overlooks the water, where there are daffodils." Her eyes had been bright with fever and pain, under hair cottony-white.

Harry had promised, had nearly caught bronchitis flying his broom to find the perfect place, and now he and Ron stood there together clasping the wooden box.

Ron's face reflected the same pain that Harry felt.

"Goodbye, Hermione."

* * *

Harry's scribblings might give him away. Prompt #4, "Blank." Implied Harry/Draco. mistressofrohan was kind enough to give me the bunny for this one!

**Concealment**

Meetings were held nightly, now, with reports on where attacks had come, which Death Eaters had been sighted (and, ideally, captured), who among the Order had been injured. Hermione always took notes, her quill slashing ink onto parchment, and Harry tried to do the same. He felt responsible, though Shacklebolt had assured him that he should concentrate on Voldemort. Tonight, though, he had been distracted, daydreaming, and when he realized what he had written over and over on the page, he quickly cast a spell to erase it. It would never do for anyone to learn that he wanted Malfoy.

* * *

_In vino veritas._ Prompt #5, "Destiny." Harry/Ron.

**Stag Night**

"You don' understan'." Harry squinted owlishly at Ron and took another gulp of Firewhiskey, then refilled his glass.

"Oi, leave some for us over here," Seamus protested, laughing, until Ron passed the bottle down to the far end of the table and returned his attention to Harry.

"What's not to understand? You and Ginny are getting married tomorrow; I'm happy for you."

"No." Green eyes locked on his own."'S destiny, y'know — s'posed to get the girl. M' reward. Doesn' matter if I wan' her."

"Don't you? She loves you." Ron forced himself to say it.

"But I love you."

* * *

Which sense better alleviates loss? Prompt #6, "Picture."

**Sight and Sound**

There's a Muggle saying, _a picture is worth a thousand words_. Every time I look at the photographs of my mum and dad, I wonder. Would I rather see them, smiling and waving at me, looking so young, so hopeful? Or would I give up one of those pictures to hear their voices, just once? Even if it were to say something ordinary, like "take out the rubbish bins," or "come to the table, your dinner's getting cold." Maybe it's just as well that I haven't the choice to make. It's better to focus on the one who killed them.

* * *

Some moments should be enjoyed slowly. Prompt #7, "Gentle." Harry/Draco. The title is from Thomas Moore, _On the Death of Sheridan_: "Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright/ Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade." This drabble was inspired by a sketch by lillithium, which is in a locked post on her LiveJournal. The sketch can be seen at my website associated with this story.

**As Gentle As Bright**

Slim elegant fingers tugged at Harry's shirt, unbuttoning each button in a movement so tender it was like a kiss in itself.

"Here, Harry, let me," murmured Draco, and the clean white cotton fell open, sliding down Harry's shoulder.

He shivered pleasurably as Draco's hand smoothed across his back in a loving caress. Warm air from the open window echoed that touch, tangling Draco's fair hair, blowing the thin curtains around them as a cloudy veil.

Letting his fingers steal around Draco's waist, Harry leaned forward, his eyelids lowering as he waited for Draco's lips to brush against his own.

* * *

Harry wants to have his Gin and eat cock too. Prompt #8, "Wrong." Harry/Remus, implied Harry/Ginny and Remus/Tonks. Adult. The title is from a maxim by Publius Syrus, "We desire nothing so much as what we ought not to have."

**Nothing So Much**

(This story is too explicit to be posted here. It can be read at my website.)

* * *

What goes around, comes around, and love can't be limited. Prompt #9, "Circle." Ginny/Hermione, Hermione/Viktor, Harry/Hermione, Harry/Ron, Harry/Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny/Hermione. Adult but little explicitness, character death implied.

**Three-Quarter Time**

(This story was posted separately.)

* * *

Ron needs some help learning to cook. Prompt #10, "Breakfast." Can be read as Harry/Ron or not, as you choose.

**How to Boil an Egg**

"How do you like your eggs?"

"You sat by me for breakfast for how many years at Hogwarts and never noticed that I prefer them soft-boiled?"

"You always insist on cooking. I might think you don't trust me."

"Just because the last time you tried to cook you managed to burn water."

"We can't all have your advantages."

"Oh, and living in a closet all my childhood and cooking for the Dursleys was an advantage?"

"You know what I mean. Right, how long do I let them boil, then?"

"Three minutes or so."

"Oops."

"Just let me do it, Ron." 


	2. Quills 11 to 20

The outside may not match the inside... and sometimes that's a very good thing. Prompt #11, "Ice." Harry/Draco. Written also for the "Ice" challenge at hd100.

**A Bit of Privacy, Please**

Harry smiles to himself when Draco leans over to the man from the _Daily Prophet_. "If you run that photograph, I can promise you'll regret it." Draco's voice is all steely disdain, as if the man were scarcely worth threatening, and the man stammers, promising no, no, of course he won't, he'll destroy the negative immediately.

When they're alone Harry gazes at Draco, whose hair is so fair it's almost white, skin pale, eyes light grey. He looks like his voice sounded: cold, a snow prince wrapped in Malfoy pride. Underneath, though, there is warmth that is all Harry's own.

* * *

They're young, they're in love. Prompt #12, "Wonder." Harry/Ginny.

**She's My Girl**

Ginny slipped her hand into his as they walked across the grounds.

"I didn't think this would ever happen," she said, turning her face towards the sky, the sunlight making her hair blaze, tendrils of it drifting in the wind. Harry's breath caught.

"Neither did I," he admitted, tugging her to a stop. "You always seemed to have another boyfriend. Neville. Michael. Dean."

She laughed. "You went out with Parvati and Cho."

"So I did." Harry leaned forward, and Ginny tilted her head until their lips met. When they broke apart, he wondered why he hadn't asked Ginny out first.

* * *

Draco wanted romance, and Harry _tried_ to oblige. Prompt #13, "Balcony." Harry/Draco. Crackfic, suggested by fourthrose -- many thanks to her for the idea. All infelicities are of course mine alone. The title is misquoted from the full title of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_.

**A Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy (Or Perhaps Not)**

"Oh Draco, Draco, wherefore art thou Slytherin?" Harry called, tripping over some lavender and swearing under his breath at the knot gardens that infested the manor grounds.

"That's supposed to be _my_ line!" Draco leaned over the balcony rail.

"What?" Harry could tell that Draco was glaring although he couldn't actually see Draco's expression from this distance.

"Juliet says that line, not Romeo, you prat. Didn't you ever read the play?"

"No. What am I supposed to say, then?"

"Your line is, 'For stony limits cannot hold love out,'" responded Draco.

Harry glanced at the garden walls. "These can't, anyhow."

* * *

Harry must set free an old enemy. Prompt #14, "Honor." The title is from Shakespeare's _Macbeth_, Act I, scene VI, lines 9-13: "But in these cases / We still have judgment here; that we but teach / Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return / To plague the inventor; this even-handed justice / Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice / To our own lips."

**Even-handed Justice**

"I've never been able to use it against him, not properly," Harry had argued, but the Wizengamot overrode him, even though the only person he had ever loathed more than Snape had died by Harry's hand. If Harry had managed to use both Occlumency and Legilimency against Voldemort, he could do it now.

So he took a deep breath and met Snape's gaze, striving to force his way through the curtain of cloudy thoughts. Thin lips twisted bitterly, and suddenly Harry could see —

It was due to Harry's testimony that Severus Snape was acquitted of the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

To save his freedom, Snape must risk a secret. Prompt #15, "Shaken." jelazakazone suggested using Snape with this prompt -- thanks to her for the suggestion!

**A Fine Line Dividing**

He ignored his own unease. He was here for one purpose, to find evidence of guilt or innocence. If Dumbledore had provided proof, it was long gone; this was the only solution. Odd that Snape had been so reluctant to accept it, arguing for someone other than Harry to perform the task. Harry might not be skilled at Legilimency, but he _had_ seen into Snape's memories once before, and the Wizengamot had chosen him.

"If you are quite ready, Potter?" The tone was calm, but Snape looked paler than usual, his fingers twitching against his robes.

"Ready." He looked unhindered into Snape's dark eyes and saw memories of Dumbledore first cajoling and then finally ordering Snape to kill him. He felt Snape's reluctance and anguished acceptance. Murder under orders was still murder, but Harry's testimony would now provide some vindication.

He ought to have withdrawn, then, but one memory merged unbidden into another, very different one. Now it was Harry himself who filled Snape's thoughts, a Harry quite unlike the one he saw in the mirror each morning: handsomer, face filled with courage. The emotions that Snape felt toward him, had always felt...

Harry broke free, shaken. "You love me?"

* * *

Harry meets Draco the day before confronting Voldemort. Prompt #16, "Regal." Harry/Draco.

**Rendezvous**

He moved with an unselfconscious arrogant grace. Harry had never liked extravagant similes, but he had to admit that Draco resembled a lion, or some other wild cat: sinewy, confident, elegant. And just as dangerous as that lion, pacing in the clearing, waiting.

"Malfoy." Harry moved out of the shadow of the trees, wand at the ready. He had chosen a moment when Draco was facing his direction, wanting to be recognized before he was hexed.

"Potter." Draco's wand hand whipped up, then fell again. "How much time?"

"The attack is tomorrow." Harry breathed deeply. "For us, now — twenty minutes."

* * *

As time passes, some things do change. Prompt #17, "Now." Harry/Draco.

**Turn, Turn, Turn**

For years I hated him, and the feeling was assuredly mutual as we baited each other.

Then he fled Hogwarts, that night I can't remember without anger. When he reappeared, entreating pardon, pleading to help the Order, for months I didn't trust him, so I watched him whenever I could, wondering when he would betray us too.

After Voldemort's death I spent weeks trying to get the thought of him out of my head. Three days ago I asked him to come to the Leaky for a drink.

I brush my lips over his flushed face and say, "Draco. Now."

* * *

Draco waits. Prompt #18, "Child." Harry/Draco. Written also to fill the "She" challenge at hd100.

**Beginnings**

Draco paced the waiting room. Ten strides across, whirl, ten back across the ugly green carpet. It wasn't as if he hadn't experienced this before, with Daphne, but now it was Harry's turn to hold someone's hand as his child was born.

He could hear Ginny's cries, muffled through the wall. They stopped, and he tensed: one hand clutching the back of a chair, eyes fixed on the door.

"They're both all right." Harry's face was joyous as he stepped out to embrace Draco. "Come on, love, come and meet our daughter Rosemary."

Draco took a shuddering breath and followed.

* * *

The night before the final battle. Prompt #19, "Stone."

**Preparation**

Harry slipped the photograph into an empty sleeve and watched Ginny wave, his heart like stone in his chest. All his efforts gone for nothing; he might as well never have bothered to break up with her.

He leafed back through the other pages. Sirius. Several even of Padfoot that Lupin must have taken. Cedric. He'd asked Mr. Diggory for that, a year after Cedric's death, and his parents had seemed pleased to have him remembered. The old picture of the Order, with so many faces gone forever. James and Lily Potter.

Closing the album, he stood. He was ready.

* * *

Confession can be good for the soul. Prompt #20, "Clarity." Harry/Hermione/Ron.

**Confession**

He didn't know he would say it until the words fell from his lips.

"I love you."

He could have blamed it on the Firewhiskey; certainly he'd drunk enough that he might have spoken Parseltongue without realizing it. But that would have been a lie, a coward's lie at that.

"Which?"

He squinted at the blurred figures, two voices speaking in unison.

"Both of you."

He expected them to recoil, repelled, but two sets of arms came around him, a red head and a brown pressed against him, and Harry saw with clear vision that they would never leave again.


	3. Quills 21 to 30

In fighting an enemy, one must not become the enemy. Prompt #21, "Weeks."

**Principles into Practice**

"We should have gone in weeks ago," Harry said afterward. "All those Muggles in Nottingham would still be alive. The wizard prisoners wouldn't have been _Crucio_'d to death, either."

"There was no way to have known." Hermione's voice was firm. "We found the best information we could, made our plans, and we _succeeded_, Harry, remember that. _You_ succeeded. You're not responsible for that suffering or those deaths." She took his hand.

"But what I'm proudest of is that we didn't do likewise. Every Death Eater we captured will be tried before the Wizengamot. No torture. No summary executions. True justice."

* * *

Harry wants time to think. Prompt #22, "Purple." 

**Sunset**

The stone skipped across the water, breaking the placid surface into silver ripples. The shadows of the trees wavered. Harry counted: one — two — three — four — five. He threw another stone, and another, as the sky darkened in scarlet and purple clouds. When he had last come out of this lake, Cedric had been alive. So had Sirius, and Dumbledore, and... Numbly, he let the final stone fall through his fingers onto the damp earth, and sank to his knees beside it, the wind ruffling his hair. He heard distant voices calling his name and knew there would be no respite.

* * *

It's hard to be a savior. Prompt #23, "Freedom." Many thanks to martal0712 for the suggestion that spawned this. 

**And Next**

It had been a year since Voldemort's death. A year and two days, to be precise. The anniversary celebration was over, the _Prophet_ had published its obligatory interview, and Harry sat in the back garden of Grimmauld place drinking firewhisky before noon.

"What do I do now, Hermione?" His voice was desperate.

Hermione looked at him with sympathy, but spoke firmly. "You're free to do anything you want, Harry. Keep on with Auror training. Try out for a Quidditch team. Go into business with the Weasleys. Something ordinary and everyday."

"I've never been ordinary," he whispered. "I don't know how."

* * *

Harry resents what could not be helped. Prompt #24, "Dark." 

**Bitter Draught**

There was something terribly unfair about it all, Harry thought. Magic should be able to do anything, right? A small voice inside him told him that he knew better, but he ignored it.

He had stayed home in Grimmauld Place for well over a month since being told at St. Mungo's that he would never see again. Mostly he sat in the garden, ignoring all his friends' efforts to cheer him up.

The one he wanted to see — no, to have visit — had never come, despite his promise the night Harry had been blinded, when Voldemort had died.

Harry was sure he knew why. Draco Malfoy always ingratiated himself with those he decided would come out on top. But now that the war was over, why would he bother with someone who had been little more than an acquaintance, who was now practically helpless? For a time Harry had thought that there could be more between them, but he must have been wrong.

He felt for the bell and rang it to ask Dobby to bring another glass of Firewhiskey. The hand that gave it to him a few minutes later was too large for the house-elf. "Who's there?"

"It's Draco."

Seizing the glass from him, Harry downed the contents in two gulps. "Go away."

"No." Draco's voice was quiet but determined.

"You couldn't be arsed to visit before. I don't want you here. Shove off, Malfoy."

"No," repeated Draco. "I suppose no one told you, then."

"Told me what?" Vaguely he remembered Hermione trying to read him the news, and himself shouting at her to leave him alone.

"There were... complications. With the Ministry. Both Severus and I were tried as Death Eaters."

"What?" Harry sat up a little straighter. "But you were working for the Order, in the end."

"Which is why I'm here now, but it took a while before they were willing to allow me access to the Savior of the Wizarding World." Draco sounded almost as darkly bitter as Harry felt.

"Oh." He paused. "Was there a reason you came?"

"I promised I would. I wanted to."

"Yeah, well, I needed you here _then_." Harry knew his tone was petulant, childish, but he couldn't help himself.

"I'm sorry. Honestly. If I could have been here, I would have," said Draco. There was a tentative touch on Harry's wrist. "Forgive me?"

"Come back tomorrow," said Harry, folding his arms. "I'll think about it."

A pause, and then Draco said, "All right, Harry." There was a _crack_ and Harry knew he had Disapparated.

He stayed, motionless, in the garden until Dobby came in the cool of the evening to lead him back inside.

* * *

Is there such a thing as too much? Prompt #25, "Too Much." Harry/??. Adult. Consensual bondage. 

**Never Too Much**

(This story is too explicit to be posted here. It can be read at my website.)

* * *

Harry asks Remus about his parents. Prompt #26, "Friends." Partly inspired by a suggestion from fourthrose. 

**Passing Judgment**

"But what were they _like_?" Harry insisted.

Remus shut his eyes, a weary mask settling over his features. "You told me that you saw Severus' memories of them."

"Yes." Bitterness edged Harry's voice. "I saw my dad and Sirius teasing him, and worse. My mum was all right, but she _hated_ my dad."

"No, she didn't, any more than Hermione ever hated Ron." Rubbing his jaw, Remus added, "James could be a royal bastard but he also helped me cope with being a werewolf. Lily... your mum was a lovely woman, in every sense, and she knew it too well."

* * *

Harry wants Remus, but can't have him. Prompt #27, "Hers." 

**All in Vain**

"I'd better be going, Harry, Tonks will be waiting." Remus' voice warmed as he said his wife's name. He stood, light glinting from grey hair.

"Next Thursday, then?" Harry was careful to be casual.

"Of course," came the equally breezy reply. A touch on the shoulder, and he was gone.

Harry looked at the half-empty glass before him. No. He finished the whisky, gasping as it burned down his throat, but did not order another. Tomorrow he would work with Tonks as usual, joking in the Aurors' staff room, chasing down Dark magic. Trying to forget that Remus was hers.

* * *

Sometimes a what-if would happen anyway. Prompt #28, "Journey." Harry/Draco. Partly inspired by Suzanne Vega's "Some Journey," from which the title phrase was taken, but _not_ a songfic. 

**No Shadows Here**

The late afternoon light was golden, making the wine gleam like rubies turned liquid. Draco sipped pleasurably.

"What would have happened if we hadn't met at school?"

Harry frowned. "We didn't meet there. I first saw you at Madam Malkin's." He leaned back, then quickly forward again as the fragile chair wobbled under him.

"You know what I mean," said Draco, exasperated. "If I'd gone to Durmstrang, say, and we hadn't been in rival Houses, or any of that. If I hadn't been in a position where V-Voldemort," he still disliked saying the name, "could force me to try to kill Dumbledore, so that I had to run, and Snape ended up bringing me to the Order. What if we'd first met last year?"

"If I'd visited Rome on my own, for instance, and you'd gone there on holiday too, and we'd met in the Piazza Minerva?"

"For instance." Draco reached across the table and took Harry's hand.

"I'd have wondered where you'd been all my life," said Harry. "And then I'd have dragged you upstairs in my hotel and shagged you till the sun came up."

"Would you."

"Absolutely." Harry grinned. "Just like I'm going to do right now."

* * *

Harry knows what he must do; Ron disagrees. Prompt #29, "Quarrel." 

**Determination**

"No!" The hurt expression on Ron's face was almost enough to make Harry change his mind. Almost. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. "I can't risk anyone else. Don't you see? It's not that I think you're no good, you know that. But if something happened to you..."

"You just don't want to share the glory," spat out Ron. "It's not about keeping us safe. The Death Eaters could turn up here too. Forget it. Hermione and I have been with you from year one; we're not staying behind."

But as Ron reached for him, Harry Disapparated.

* * *

Snape needs to be certain Harry means what he says. Prompt #30, "Regret." Harry/Snape. 

**Hold Fast**

(This story was posted separately, the third chapter under the title "He Plays At Hazard".)


	4. Quills 31 to 40

Harry makes a pilgrimage every year. Prompt #31, "Forgiveness." Harry/Draco. Written also for the "Ghosts" challenge at hd100.

**Lest He Forget**

Every year Harry insisted that he and Draco spend the Saturday before Halloween Apparating to various places around Britain: Godric's Hollow, Little Whinging, Little Hangleton, the Ministry building in London, Hogwarts — well, there they Apparated to Hogsmeade and walked up, of course — Malfoy Manor, and half-a-dozen other locations. At each one, Harry would stand silently for a few minutes, before grabbing Draco's hand and Apparating them to the next. It was several years before Draco realized that Harry's visits were to reassure him that the past held no ghosts, that those who had died because of him had forgiven him.

* * *

The impending chance of death provokes Harry to speak to Snape in ways he might never have done. Prompt #32, "Naked." Possible Harry/Snape, if you squint. florahart's suggestion led me here. Many thanks to her!

**Laid Bare**

(This story was posted separately, the first chapter under the title "He Plays At Hazard".)

* * *

Ron understands Harry's nightmares. Prompt #33, "Transparent." Harry/Ron. Written also in honor of wolfiekins's birthday.

**Known**

"No!"

Harry fought his way out of the nightmare. Sweat-damp sheets tangled around him, and he half-fell trying to stand.

He made his way to the toilet, afterward leaning his head against the cool hard tile.

"You all right?" Ron's voice came through the closed door. "Harry?"

"No." Harry opened the door; the concern on Ron's face made his stomach clench. "I... nothing."

Ron lifted a hesitant hand, touched Harry's shoulder. "Tell me."

It had been Ron he had dreamed of. Dead. "No." Harry twisted away, but Ron caught him.

"I think I know."

And kissed him.

So Harry kissed back.

* * *

Sometimes it's easy. Prompt #34, "Ancient." Harry/Draco implied. Written also for the "Letter G" challenge at hd100.

**Nigh**

Harry paced back and forth, concentrating hard. _I need that final Horcrux._ Behind him Draco waited; this had been his suggestion.

"Ready?" Harry took a deep breath. "Let's go in."

The Room of Requirement appeared quite ordinary. Just a room, furnished with battered tables and worn chairs, bits of ancient bric-a-brac here and there. They began to look, picking up each item and checking it over. A dull gleam caught Harry's eye where an ornate letter "G" adorned a gold brooch. He didn't even need to check; he knew this had been Godric Gryffindor's.

It had been simple, after all.

* * *

Harry is locked in his cupboard again. Prompt #35, "Severe." The title is from Thomas Hardy, "On a fine Morning."

**Whence comes solace?**

Harry didn't remember when he was first locked in his cupboard, but by the time he was seven he accepted it as normal.

Sometimes he overheard fragments of conversation:

"...too harsh on him?"

"...have to... out, or..."

"...like his mother, she..."

He wondered often about his mother. He knew that she had died in a car crash when he was a baby, and that she had red hair; something Aunt Petunia had let slip. When the cupboard door was locked, Harry curled his arms around his thin pillow, and imagined he was hugging his mum, and that she was hugging back.

* * *

Harry visits his parents. Prompt #36, "Cemetery." This is a moment from _Better Than Revenge_, if it had gone a somewhat different way.

**St. Ceneu's Graveyard**

He fingers the cold stone. Less than twenty years, but already the incised letters are worn, moss and lichen eating them into oblivion. Or perhaps whoever paid for it — and who _was_ it, he wonders — skimped, had the carving done on the cheap. He rubs at the green corruption. One name. Two. Three. Three? His own name is there, showing that he died aged one year. A Muggle must have put up the stone, assuming their baby had died in the fire too. He shivers, but the thought is oddly freeing. If he is already dead, what more can happen?

* * *

Harry promised to ask again. Prompt #37, "Risk." Harry/Snape.

**Something Ventured**

(This story was posted separately, the second chapter under the title "He Plays At Hazard".)

* * *

Harry sees something he shouldn't. Prompt #38, "Knots." Hermione/Snape. Adult. admedievalist gave me a bunny for this -- thanks!

**Discovery**

Harry stopped dead and stared. True, he rarely came into the library this late, but Grimmauld Place was still his house even if he shared it with others, and he didn't expect... this.

Snape's face was flushed, tipped slightly against the fabric of the wing-backed chair, but not nearly as bright as the scarlet of his prick, what Harry could see of it when — he gasped — Hermione's mouth slid upward. Long stained fingers knotted in her hair, urging her back down, though she seemed to need no encouragement.

Swallowing, Harry realized that what he wanted most was to join them.

* * *

Harry celebrates a birthday. Prompt #39, "Warmth." Harry/Draco. Follows "Happy Christmas, Harry" by about 15 years, but it's not necessary to read that fic first. (That story is explicit; it can be read at my website.)

**Growing Old Together**

"Seventy. I can't believe it. For a long time I didn't think I would make it past seventeen."

Draco put one arm around Harry. "And Horatio and Ariadne, Rosemary and Julian and their families are going to be here for the whole weekend. Don't worry, I'm going to put all the kids out in the tent; no running and squealing along the hallway at six in the morning."

"I wasn't worried." He leaned back into the warmth of Draco's embrace. "I'm looking forward to seeing them all."

"But first..." Draco bent his head to Harry's, kissing him. "Happy birthday, love."

* * *

Harry isn't sure if he's doing the right thing, marrying Hermione. Prompt #40, "Promises." Harry/Hermione. Background character death. Vague allusion to H/Hr/R.

**Second Best**

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Harry asked once more. It had been Hermione's idea to begin with, but perhaps she had thought better of it.

"I can't mourn him forever." Serious brown eyes met green in a level gaze. "We'll both always miss him. But it wasn't your fault."

"Ginny thinks so."

"Ginny's wrong. She and Ron were always close — not as close as the twins, but still. She's needed someone to blame, that's all." Hermione laid her hand on Harry's arm. "Don't hold it against her."

"No." Harry huffed out a breath. "If you can forgive me, I can forgive her."

"Good, because she's going to be standing beside me tomorrow and I'd hate to have you two glaring at each other over my shoulder. Keep that in mind because you won't be seeing me until the ceremony, you know."

"That's such a ridiculous custom," Harry complained.

"Tell it to my mother and Molly Weasley." Hermione stood on tiptoe and pecked him on the lips. "Till tomorrow."

Back in his own flat — soon to be shared with Hermione, until they found a house, and why she had been unwilling to move in with him before now he still didn't understand — Harry poured himself a glass of firewhiskey and sprawled on the sofa.

The photograph of himself, Hermione, and Ron that had been taken at Bill and Fleur's wedding stood in its silver frame on the table next to him, and Harry picked it up. Three faces smiled at him, three hands waved. Picture-Harry's other hand was shoved in his pocket, but picture-Ron and picture-Hermione were holding hands.

It hadn't been Harry's fault that Ron died. The plan of attack had been the best that they could devise; it had simply been Ron's bad luck that he had encountered Bellatrix Lestrange and been unable to duck the Killing Curse she had hurled in time. It could just as easily have been Hermione or Harry himself.

He laid the photograph against his knees and took a gulp of his drink. "It never should have been this way. We were all supposed to make it through. Then you and Hermione could have married." Harry sighed. "But you're gone, and Ginny blames me, and I guess Hermione and I had no one but each other. So when she suggested we should get married, how could I say no?"

Picture-Ron looked at him, almost as if he could hear, and nudged picture-Hermione, who stopped waving and put her arm around the waist of picture-Harry. Picture-Ron nodded and spread his free hand wide, as if to say, "See? She loves us both."

"I know she loves me," Harry told the photograph. "And I love her too. But she always loved you best. It wasn't supposed to be like this." He watched the three of them, leaning on one another, until he fell asleep still dressed and with the lights on.

The wedding was scheduled for four o'clock, and the guests were beginning to stir and look questioningly at one another when Harry raced in at five minutes to four and took his place. The Minister of Magic had insisted on being the one to conduct the ceremony; it wasn't every day that the Hero of the Wizarding World got married. He scowled at Harry's tardiness, but Neville just looked relieved.

"Thank goodness," said Neville in an undertone. "I wasn't sure what I'd do if you weren't here. Imagine me having to explain to Hermione."

"It's all right," Harry said. He turned and faced down the aisle, waiting.

Ginny walked up first, dressed in pale green and looking as if she couldn't decide whether to smile or cry. Harry gave her a quick nod, but his attention was all on Hermione behind her. She wore ivory lace and for once her hair had been tamed into a crown of braids and tendrils, shimmering brown under her veil.

As she reached the front and before the Minister could begin speaking, Harry cleared his throat.

"Minister, if I may say a few words to my bride first?"

"Most irregular." But Harry was who he was, and with a harrumph, the Minister stepped back. "Very well, if you must."

"Hermione." Harry took her hands. "For the last time, are you sure? Because I don't want to be your second best, your consolation prize because Ron isn't here. It wouldn't be fair to either of us."

She disengaged one hand to flip back the veil, looking at him steadily. "You're the one I want, Harry. You're not second best. You never were. I always loved you both."

He swallowed. "I loved you both too. I would have..."

Hermione put her finger to his lips. "I know. Ron knew. Let's not keep everyone waiting now, shall we?"

Together they turned to where the Minister was gaping at them in confusion. "All right, sir."

"Right." The Minister pulled himself together, and began. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."


	5. Quills 41 to 50

Sometimes there's an incentive to lose. Prompt #41, "Race." Harry/Ron.

**The Wager**

"It's a bit unfair, you having the Firebolt when I'm on a Nimbus Eleven," said Ron heatedly.

"Swap, then."

Ron hesitated. If Harry won on the Nimbus... but then again, how likely was it that _Ron_ could win on the Nimbus? It was fine for Keeping, but as a long-distance racing broom, no. And with that wager at stake... "All right."

Half an hour later, he landed triumphantly and waited.

"You won," said Harry when he reached Ron.

"Mm hm." Ron pulled Harry to him. "Ready to pay up?"

"Of course." Harry smiled with pure delight as he knelt down.

* * *

Being a hero isn't quite what Harry expected. Prompt #42, "Hero."

**Aftermath**

He never tried to be a hero, really, even though Hermione had joked about his "hero complex" for years. All he ever did was what seemed necessary at the time, what he couldn't avoid. All right, sometimes he went looking for trouble, but not to be a hero.

Which made standing there to receive the Order of Merlin terribly uncomfortable. He kept being asked to kiss babies, which was ridiculous, and having floo addresses on bits of parchment shoved in his pocket. As soon as it was over, he fled back to Grimmauld Place, almost envying his late godfather's solitude.

* * *

Ron can't believe what Harry is telling him. Prompt #43, "Natural." Harry/Draco.

**It Feels Natural**

"You're joking." Ron looked at Harry pleadingly; when Harry shook his head, he turned to Hermione. "Tell me he's having me on."

"No, he's not, Ron. I've known for ages." Hermione blushed. "I saw a mark on Draco's neck, and guessed, and asked. I thought you might have figured it out too."

"Why would I guess that Harry's been snogging _Draco_?" Ron's voice was anguished. "I thought you liked Ginny. How can you be in love with _Draco Malfoy_?"

Harry shrugged. "I still like Ginny, just not in the same way. There's something about being with Draco... it feels natural."

* * *

Harry fulfills his destiny. Prompt #44, "Silence."

**The End**

He had imagined what would happen after Voldemort's death a hundred times, dwelling on it to lull himself to sleep at night in one of the uncomfortable hideouts the Order was forced to use. Cheers, cries, jubilation — something to express relief at the end of the long threat, the long fight. Or perhaps, if some of the Death Eaters remained, then simply more crashes, shouts, explosions; taunts and threats that rang in the ears and seared across the soul. Never, in all of Harry's imaginings, had he expected this grey and arid silence. He fell to his knees and wept.

* * *

Harry remembers those who are gone. Implied character death. Angst. Prompt #45, "Who?"

**Gone**

The voices echoed.

_"I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best."_

Whispers, some.

_"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry?"_

Others like ordinary conversation.

_"I don' ever want ter go back ter Azkaban."_

He could almost see the faces.

_"You told me about the dragons. I would've gone down in the first task if you hadn't told me what was coming."_

He named each one over to himself.

_"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."_

So many.

_"Your blood is worth more than mine."_

All for him to be here.

* * *

Severus tries to give comfort. Prompt #46, "Tears." Harry/Severus. Written also for the "Touch" challenge at snarry100.

**In St. Mungo's**

Severus was unsure quite what to do when Harry wept. He had not shed tears himself in so long that he scarcely recalled what it felt like.

It was not that he did not understand; if Harry had lost both innocence and his closest friends, destroying Voldemort, Severus had experienced similar losses years before. He had simply had to endure the pain, and even Albus' trust had not made it easier to bear.

Self-consciously, he reached across the clean white sheets of the hospital bed and laid his hand on Harry's. Harry's fingers tightened, clutching at him like a lifeline.

* * *

Harry decides you really _can_ have too much of a good thing. Prompt #47, "Chocolate."

**Enough Is Too Much**

Sometimes Harry thought that it was some sort of odd poetic justice. He had spent his childhood envying the fact that his cousin Dudley was allowed to eat all the chocolate he liked. Now Harry could hardly bear to look at the stuff.

"Come on, Harry." Hermione's voice was gentle, but a trace of impatience edged it. "You have to have it, you know you do. It's the only thing that will make you feel better."

Reluctantly Harry took the bar from her hand. "As soon as the Dementors are dealt with, I'll never eat chocolate again," he promised himself.

* * *

If only the mirror-world were real. Prompt #48, "Parents." darkladyothsith suggested Harry and the Mirror of Erised... big hug to her for the idea!

**Mirror, Mirror**

My mum's face shows she's proud and happy that I'm here at Hogwarts, and my dad looks pleased too. Their hands rest on the shoulders of my reflection, not pressing down, just solidly there. Safe. I'd feel safe if I could feel that touch. I'd feel loved. I _know_ they loved me — how can I disbelieve that, when my mum died to try to keep me alive? — but I can't _feel_ it, not inside. My reflection seems to know how love feels. He looks up at them and smiles. Why can't I change places with the boy in the mirror?

* * *

Draco wonders if things could have been different. Prompt #49, "If." Pre-Harry/Draco. For mordyn4 on her birthday.

**If Only**

_If he had taken my hand, that first day..._

But Harry hadn't. One choice had led to another, misunderstanding piling on misunderstanding, until Draco doubted anything could ever change. He looked up from where he huddled in a corner. Two days he'd had no fire; Snape had been gone for five, Draco's wand with him.

"Is it over?" Draco asked, his tongue thick with disuse.

Pity shone in Harry's eyes. "Yes. I'm to take you for trial by the Wizengamot." His hand was warm as he pulled Draco to his feet.

_If only he had taken my hand back then..._

* * *

Brave with ribbons they will set out for battle. Prompt #50, "Ribbon." Harry/Hermione/Ron.

**In Case**

"You want me to wear a _what_?" Harry's voice cracked as Hermione waved the floppy length in his face.

"A ribbon," she said firmly. "And you as well, Ron. Look, I have one." She twisted her head so they could see a flash of scarlet under bushy brown hair.

"Only ponces like Lucius Malfoy tie their hair back like that," Ron objected, backing away as she gave up on Harry for the moment and started towards him.

"Don't worry, I'm going to put it round your upper arm." Hermione seized his shoulder and made quick work of it, tying a neat bow, scowling, then knotting it so it couldn't come undone.

"Why, Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Ladies gave their champions favors before they went into battle."

"But you're going with us."

"And... to recognize our allies, in the fighting. In case we get Transfigured or something."

"Oh, all right," Harry acquiesced. Hermione wrapped the ribbon around his arm, and he hugged her quickly, drawing Ron in as well. The three of them together — they could do anything, even defeat Voldemort.

As he went through the doorway, he just barely heard her whisper, "And in case someone needs to identify a body."


End file.
